Since my encounter with Chris Consentino at the NRA show, I've been hellbent on working with the red headed step brother parts of the pig.  I also want physical evidence to rebute everyone that says I only do Asian and Mexican food.  After much Fergus Henderson research, so I could actually execute something I've never had or done before, here is my mix of the familiar with the unfamiliar:

11:00 AM.  Still in bed.  Still exhausted from work and yesternight's rain delay getting home.  Haven't had breakfast and I'm already behind schedule for executing trotters.  Should probably take a nap.

12:00 PM.  One leg out of bed and foot touching the creaky hardwood floor.  Progress.  A full bladder and a post travel day empty stomach get the rest of me over the edge.  Next, I wrangle yesterday's clothing to go visit Susie for nourishment, and so she doesn't forsake me.

12:35 PM.  Go from Susie's to across the street for trotters.  If I hurry, can still have dinner done by seven.  Seven-ish should still be acceptable.  Unlike every other visit, I go straight to the meat counter, to make sure there are trotters in stock.  Without them, everything else gathered would be useless.  I spy pork belly, pig tails, and finally, split trotters.  Going to need the belly with rind and a whole chicken as well.  Now I can go back through the produce aisle to gather parsnips, potatoes, leeks, carrots, onions, garlic, fresh herbs, and an apple to snack on.  Grab some wine next door, and then it's a long block back home.

Sorry Wilbur.1:00 PM.  Home, and ready to nap again.  Already been too productive for a Saturday morning.  But I must will myself onward, so I can eat dinner before midnight, and blog for the people.  Start by preheating the oven to 350 Dg.  I put the trotters in the pot first.  Can't imagine what it's like to walk on four of those.

Now, it's time to add flavor.  I throw in a head of garlic, skin on, two halved white onions, a cleaned leek, two carrots, bay leaves, peppercorns, and a bundle of fresh thyme. 

Next comes the bathwater.  A generous half bottle of red wine, which in this case is a $10 Pinot Noir (shouldn't it be black?) I found, and then chicken stock to cover.  Put in the oven covered for three hours.  This leaves me time to run to the gym, and start laundry as the clock ticks away.

Cross section shows how much meat is really being handled.4:45 PM.  The trotters are cooked through.  I strain the liquid and discard the vegetables.  While the trotters are coming to a more hand-manageable temperature, I put the pot on a burner to bring the liquid to a simmer.

Have to get the meat off the bones.  Best way to do this is bare handed.  There is little meat compared to the quantities of cartilage and skin, but all these things are necessary.  Discard only bones, then dump everything back into the pot.  Simmer for an hour.

5:30 PM.  Knife skills are a bit rusty, so I get a head start on breaking down the chicken to parts.  Also need to peel a dozen shallots, cut the rind off the pork belly, and the rest of it into cubes.

5:45 PM.  Get out a saute pan to brown whole shallots with the bacon rind in butter.  Wish I had some duck fat.  After the first turn I use my brain and cut off chicken fat from the ravaged carcass.  Melts beautifully into the pan.  After getting proper color I dump the pan's contents into the trotter pot.  They'll need a good 30 to get to know each other well.

During this time, I brown the chicken parts in the same pan the pork rind and shallots were in.  Don't clean it either.  When the 30 is up, the chicken and cubes of pork belly go in the pot.  With everybody in the pool, the top goes on and the pot into a 425 Dg oven for 40 minutes.  Time keeps on ticking.

6:20 PM.  Mash time.  I quarter the parsnips and potatoes, place in a large pot, fill to cover with water, and turn up the heat.

A half-ish bottle of wine, and about 2 quarts of chicken stock reduced to about 1.5 cups of heaven.7:00 PM.  Take the cover off the pot in the oven, leave for another 10.  The potatoes and parsnips are cooked, so I drain them, and return to a low burner.  I season with salt, pepper, then a healthy spoonful of butter, along with a splash of milk.  Then as always, I get out the hand masher, and make the tubers unrecognizable to their mothers.

7:10 PM.  Time to plate; to eat.  I pour a glass of the same pinot noir I used in the dish.  I lay a bed of the mash on the platter, then start picking out all the tasty bits from the pot.  Need some chicken, definitely need some trotter, and shallots never hurt.  Leave the rind in for seconds if I get there.  Spoon the cooking liquid over as a finishing touch.

I start by eating the familiar before getting into the unfamiliar.  Chicken is great, and so is the mash.  The sauce is easily [good] restaurant quality.  Now it's time for the trotter skin.  I start by eating it with mash.  Goes down easy.  Next I eat the trotter just on it's own-- and it's so good.  I get what trotters are all about.  They're all about skin.  After many hours of cooking, it isn't tough, or chewy, or goofy at all.  Just light, flavorful no-knife-required skin goodness.  

Who needs greens anyway?